Last night while Tanner was helping the girls clean their toy room. He found not one or two but three stray socks.
Now he frequently finds my rage over socks hanging out around the house entertaining. He doesn’t understand my irritation. So he laughed as he pulled them out of their hiding spots. One was tucked into a pot hidden in their toy kitchen.... like why? Are we pretending to make socks? Surely my cooking doesn’t taste like feet. . .
Anyway I’m sitting next to my mom watching this unfold and I turn to her and say “see! Again! With the f’ing socks!!” My mom laughed and said “well the other day, I was sweeping your floor for you and found a pair of his socks under the couch”.
This did not surprise me. Tanner is just as much a culprit of the sock saga as the girls are. His also includes hoodies, half drank coke cans, cups, the dang cups.
So I innocently remind Tanner of my moms sock discovery to which he shakes his head with a straight face and says “I don’t believe it. Nope”
And I was struck by the resemblance of my 31 year old husband and my 4 year old daughter both caught in the act, deny deny deny. The sock fits y’all it’s like a less romantic version of Cinderella.
Normally with newborns I’d give them the benefit of the doubt because you know, they have no idea what they are doing, and their little skinny, weirdly long feet are the one foot in all of mankind simply made to reject socks. Like socks and baby feet are magnets of opposite ends made to repel each other.
And in most cases this makes me smile because baby feet are cute.
But lately? It feels like Raelynn is in on the sock saga. It’s like they’ve all conspired together, aiding and abetting one another in order to leave sock surprises at every turn for the sole purpose of driving me nuts.
So for those of you that are battling the hungry dryer syndrome where somehow and for reasons unbeknownst to the worlds leader experts, your dryer manages to eat the matches to most socks, I envy you. At least then all the socks are in just one place and while you may be mysteriously losing half of them, you can confidently say you’ve lost them to the famished dryer.
Me? I have no idea where our socks may or may not be? Last week alone I found one out by the trampoline, one in the van, one next to the treadmill in the garage and one in my coat pocket. FROM LAST SPRING!
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